


Harvest Essence

by Kisuru



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Autumn, Clothing Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/pseuds/Kisuru
Summary: Doumeki notices Watanuki is stressed while they sit on the veranda and wait for customers under the harvest moon. Massages are good for stress, of course.





	Harvest Essence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).

Scents of woodsy musk, spices, and bountiful grass filled the air. The harvest moonlight glared off the polished porch in an ethereal glow. The number of bright, fiery bulbs of light scattered on the wide veranda fought off the summer night chill. A dozen long-necked candles added orange-red halos of eerie light under the moon’s reflecting yellow beams.  
  
Doumeki sucked in a deep breath. The scent almost overwhelmed him with the heavy fragrance. Though he had become accustomed to the strong, giddy scents which drew spirits, the number of candles were overkill. Briefly, he had forgotten it in favor of drowning himself in aftermath smoke from Watanuki’s pipe, a distinct breather of tobacco. Even as he admired the scent feet away, thick curls of smoke weaved around Watanuki’s profile.  
  
Cryptically, Watanuki stared up at the disk of the moon high above the trees in the distance, his face stony and his long fingers perched on the twisting pipe. His jaw was set and his eyes faraway.  
  
Doumeki hated that look. He could never say it outright—he knew how seriously Watanuki took the job after Yuuko died—but he always worked himself tirelessly.  
  
The collar of Watanuki’s kimono slipped past his shoulder and exposed his upper arm on both sides. It was the elegant silk esemble of kimono that trailed in a train at the soles of his bare feet alongside the elongated obi, patterns of autumn flowers and shapes dotting the lush garment.  
  
In Doumeki’s ears, static blared. All he could focus on was Watanuki’s pale skin, and the rich pool of beautiful fabric.  
  
He dropped the confection in his hand back on the plate Maru and Moro had brought out for him. The threads of the kimono enwrapping his chest and waist and fit his skin perfectly, the shine of pale skin under the moonlight—yes, Doumeki hungered for something different that even delicious food couldn’t match.  
  
Now, he was thankful for the additional scent. Doumeki reached for the pot of oil next to a candle holder. Scooting towards him, he uncapped the lid and opened it.  
  
The rustle of fabric must have alerted him, because Watanuki flinched, the memories and thoughts on his mind draining from his face to take note of the present. He lowered the pipe. “If you want more food, we’re already running low on groceries,” he sighed. His eyes narrowed into slits once Doumeki was finally next to his side, instantly suspicious. “What are you—?“  
  
Doumeki couldn’t resist peeking at his chest under the kimono’s front panel. It was merely a flash of the flat of his abs, but it was enough to send him reeling. His chest constricted and throat tightened. The flat of his broad hand landed on Watanuki’s arm. Without preamble, he pushed him down towards the porch.  
  
Watanuki lightly landed with a thud. “Hey, idiot,” he snapped, squirming like a fish in the kimono to gain his balance back, “you can’t be an animal out of nowhere and push me down. At least give people some notice _before_ you sneak up on them?” His cheeks flushed nonetheless out of embarrassment or the influence of the potency of the unrelenting incense and smoke. He shook his head slightly.  
  
Doumeki noncommittedly hummed.  
  
“Don’t grunt at me!”  
  
Despite wanting Watanuki to lie down, he was gentle with the kimono; he knew he would hate it if he wrinkled or ripped it in any fashion. Any clothes from Yuuko were practically lifetime treasures to him. He still wanted the kimono off to drink in his beautiful, lanky form. For Doumeki, that was the attainable person he treasured.  
  
He went to work. The obi’s delicate cloth brushed his fingertips as he wound fingers around it and untied it from his waist. The kimono clutched to Watanuki’s frame, offering Doumeki a small sneak peek, before the obi unfastened and the wondrous exotic silk loosened from his frame. Doumeki took a panel of the kimono from the top and opened the edge of it to push it off his shoulders and further down his torso. He feasted his eyes on his chest as it was revealed.  
  
Watanuki lay half-sprawled out on his side opposite him, half on his stomach. Doumeki scooped a handful of the oil up in his hand. He didn’t wait for invitation, because he would insist he worried too much. He pressed the flat of his hand to the base of his neck and dragged his nails down his shoulder blades. Watanuki’s eyes went wide, mouth gaping, back stiff as he realized his course of action.  
  
“I didn’t _ask_ you to—“  
  
_Sure you did_, Doumeki thought, pace accelerating to the point Watanuki let out the soft gasp of a sigh. _You want to be touched. Reminded you’re not alone_.  
  
The weight of wish granting for the spirits that would visit during autumn harvest celebrations was on his mind, which both gave Doumeki equal halves of hope that Watanuki had plenty of work to spend time on and restlessness with his wound up posture. Waiting all night for harvest spirits to visit the shop for his services accomplished little for him. The harvest season made it safer and easier for the spirits to travel, but the workload could be overwrought if he overdid himself. That was the danger of a busy season.  
  
Not pausing, Doumeki trailed down farther and pressed into the hard, tense muscles again. Watanuki’s withdrawn sighs turned to involuntary groans. He squirmed and twisted on his arm and flopped on his stomach in a comfortable position, giving into it with a grumble. Nowhere was safe from his touch; his hand coaxed him to relax everywhere.  
  
Thin rivulets of oil cascaded Watanuki’s rosy skin. The moonlight shone on the slathered oil dripping down his shoulder blades and dip of his spine. The kimono pooled at his sides with each movement, and his arms entangled in the sleeves. The pit of Doumeki’s stomach did a flip. Perhaps it was pure arousal that spread through him at the sight. Perhaps it was the peace of mind he gave Watanuki the rare chance to lapse into his own desire.  
  
The visible tension of Watanuki’s muscles stretched less taut. He quivered anyway, and it didn’t have to do wit the tension.  
  
“Don’t get any weird ideas,” Watanuki murmured. Doumeki could tell he wasn’t listening to himself anymore, his tone too low and his eyes too droopy. He bristled as he seemed to remember something important but quickly dropped the fear. “You can’t just expect me to accept this so quickly—I mean, really—“ He bit his lip when Doumeki’s palm found the middle of his back and rubbed deep circles in. “Oh, fine, right there. Since you’re so insistent! But it’s not like I need it.”  
  
Doumeki snorted. He dipped his fingertips in the pot of oil once more, pleased with the oil’s soothing nature and its apparent effective healing properties. Perhaps that was the reason Watanuki used the oil in the candles to welcome guests—the oil’s healing scent was a compliment to a calm autumn evening. As ever, he didn’t have much to say that he couldn’t put through with action rather than words. Watanuki had done far enough on the thought side for one day, so there was only pleasure.  
  
While he continued to knead the curves of his bones and muscles and feel every strained spot, he reached for Watanuki’s head. He stroked the dark hair out of his eyes. Doumeki grazed the wire of the glasses in the process, the pad of his thumb casually brushing his cheekbone. Despite his earlier demeanor, his cheek fell against his palm and didn’t reject that affection. Wanting to keep the energy up, Doumeki cupped and interlaced their fingers together, and he grasped his hand firmly in his to make the message clear.  
  
He wouldn’t always be there to watch him and make sure he didn’t overwork himself. In the future, he would have to destress in other ways. For that moment, he was content with washing the pain away.


End file.
